"Sometimes the person you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger."
My vision is blurry. I try to rub my eyes, but I find that I can't lift my left arm. I wait, hoping it would go away on its own. And when it does I realise I'm wearing my helmet. It's covered in blood.
"My own?" I try to speak, but I can't feel my face.
Something is dripping down my right arm. I try to lift it at first. The pain is too much. I stop trying.
"Warning. Oxygen at 78%."
That was the on-board AI. It's voice faded out slowly. Glitching out as it did. I struggle against the pain to lift my arm. I check my torso first, then stare down at my hand - glove covered in blood. I'm getting dizzy.
"Why?" I try to speak, but I can't. My sight fades out. I can feel something dripping from the top of my head down my nose.
I wake up. The cracked console started beeping as errors and notifications floods the screen. My head is tilted sideways with the only thing holding me on my seat being a mere seatbelt.
I gaze through the window. I can see Planet Atka in the distance. My attention, however, is directed to a small crack. A small, insignifiant crack in the glass. But then it becomes bigger. I hear the hissing noise of air escaping into the vacuum of space.
"Warning. Oxygen at 70%."
I panic as I realise there's no coming back if the Oxygen depletes. I will be drowning into the endless void. I've been through hell and back and made it out alive. But now? There is no one to call to.
I see Barrow in the distance - faint silhouette of an asteroid only slightly sticking out from the rest through its size. A memory flashes behind my eyes. Two Xenos. Two Order Agents. Cobra - Damien - among them. A raging barrage of weaponry of all calibers, colours and such. Damien was shooting me. The Xenos were. I'm too far.
My eyes become tired out of the sudden. I hear the echoing sound of water dripping - I hope it is water. It falls from the edge of my helmet onto my right thigh.
My eyes shut on their own accord, and I feel like I'm about to vomit, while falling. I try to go back to that moment I only hear that Agent's words.
"Nomad Agent?" I clench my seemingly paralyzed jaw and wheeze out those words. Seconds before hell was let loose and I bit the dust. In front of my home.
My breath quickens, but I lose consciousness slowly. It's so dark.
I open my eyes. Body jolting in an instant. A whisper passed by my left ear. So quiet, followed by a low giggle. I must be going insane. Raven is not here. I wish I could see her one more time.
I look through the window. I can only see the endless space. I gaze into the abyss that is it, knowing it won't be long before I become one with it. And that crack. It is bigger. The hissing remains steady, joining the noise created by what I can discern at this point to be blood dripping on the floor. It doesn't stop.
"One life for the LFR."
I remember his words. The last ones that I could remember, before the projectiles blinded my eyes, and the noise of rupturing hull deafened me. It took seconds. Mere seconds. Then a blast the instant I pressed a button. I released a mine out of sheer panic. It all went quiet afterwards. I thought thought I died. I hoped.
I close my eyes. My throat feels like its burning, and when I let it all out with a cough the helmet's visor is splattered with blood. I bite my own lip as the pain took over.
The silence of the endless expanse was known and feared by many, breathing life into their paranoia, hiding their enemies. This time would prove different, as a large obscured object eclipsed the bright beacon of the distant Atka, as the surrounding void became that much darker, the object soon to be made obvious as a vessel was given an unidentifiable silhouette from this angle. It approached ever closer, the light fading with it.
A flourish of vibrancy, a spark that set fire to the dark, bringing forth a blinding light. As it shifted over the destroyed Valkyrie it became obvious it was a search light, shifting over the asteroids and debris, the vessel was now directly above what was left of Vincent's ship, the underbelly of a Hel was now visible from his position in the pod, the only identifier to prove friend from foe was the ominous purple hue that faded into the blackened hull. There was brief indiscernible radio-wave chatter heard as if an attempt to hail the station was being made, followed by deafening silence.
I hear the birds chirping in the distance. The breeze of fresh air passing through my hair leaves a somewhat pleasant feeling. But it feels wrong. Am I dreaming? Was I dreaming?
I open my eyes. I am on the floor with my sight towards the clean blue sky and as I raise myself off the ground I see a a beautiful landscape. But empty. There is a bench in the distance. It looks slightly worn, with scratches all over, yet the paint looks new - a shade of cyan.
I walk towards it. No. I run. I run, kicking the dirt back slightly with each footstep - some even getting caught between the spaces of my shoes. But I do not care. The sun is so bright that I can't stare at the bench directly, yet I know where it is. I always do. My hand is put towards the sun - covering my eyes so that I can see.
I stop running as I reach it. I stretch my back - a crack, two, three. It feels good. And then I sit down, staring down the landscape alone in this beautiful place.
"Having fun? Enjoying your break?"
I get ready to reply out of reflex, but I realise that is my own voice. But it can't be me. I'm me. I'm here, alone.
"Yeah. You're alone. With you, yourself and your thoughts. Nice to meet me!"
I look down - the sun was still too bright. I see a hand before my eyes, waiting to be shook. I feel my heart beat faster, but I still extend my own left hand to shake his - mine? I look further, as the sun dims down. That is my hand I'm shaking. My jacket. And when I look up - me. I'm shaking my own head in excitement?
"...I must be going insane. Y-"
I get cut off by myself. As if my own thoughts are racing through my head, colliding. Clashing to see which one takes over.
"I'm not going insane! What am I talking about? Look. Don't overthink it. I'm me. We - us both - are me. We're Vincent, I am Vincent. But we're not here to leave an existential crisis get in the way, right?
What am I talking about? It doesn't make any sense. Nothing makes sense!
Tsk, tsk, tsk...and I was doing so well! Well-- hmm. I should make it simpler. I'll think of something. But in the meantime, I've got visitors. Or should I say...you? Are we going down that path? We'll talk later.
I get up, lifting my own too hands, while I sit down on the bench staring. I unite my hands in a loud clap, and as I do I open new eyes - of reality.
My visor is stained red. I can barely see. But there is a silhouette. Giant - titanic. My heart beats faster. I don't discern what it is, or who it is. My mind is flooded with so many things I want to do in order to get their attention. Yet one takes over. I lift my right arm. The pain was terrible, but the idea of losing the only chance at survival over it would be much worse. I remember there was a button on the right side of my seat, but I cannot see it.
I lift my hand above head level, and slam it down, hoping to hit the giant, red button. I hit air the first time. I hit my elbow the second - it hurts so much. And then I hit it the third time. The pod lights up as the lights begin to flash outside the pod.
I remain exhausted. I can't breathe enough to compensate and my sight blurs. Everything is so dark.
The vessel seems to have turned away from the pod, the search light still casting over asteroids and the tiniest of bits and pieces left outside the station, indicated by shiny flashes as the light passes over them. It drifts, further and further as the vents of the engines spew forth streams of ionized energy, streaks of light that trace the trail of where the vessel had been, and where it would soon be. Out of sight. Was he out of sight? Couldn't be, the many levels and reinforced glass views of the Hel could certainly see him, someone could see him. Further. It drifted further.
And yet, even still, the vessel's hangar opened, flooding the dark with light once more, as a tiny speck was released from it. A ball of violet and light purple hues, much like a star, as the same type of trail emerged, streaks of bright white, augmented by a litany of purple. The speck shot through the debris, its search light casting a cone forward, then it stopped. Turning. The color grew brighter, indicating a turn towards Vincent as it became nothing but a little purple ball. Then it began to grow, much like the looming darkness had with the vessel's arrival. Flares released from the little ball, more lines of white, drawn toward the center as it began a rapid approach, growing exponentially in the pod's reinforced window in the span of a few seconds. Fins, there were four, two arching above like a crown belonging to a king, two splayed to the side, angled down like a bird's flapping its wings to soar to new heights. A Falchion, the stark white was made discernable by the distant Atka, illuminating the left side through the filter of cold stone. The ultraviolet search light on the front flooding the pod from afar as it bobbed and weaved through the field.
I am blinded by a bright light as I open my eyes. I cannot see what is the source. I close my eyes, yet my heartbeat quickens. I think to myself.
"Who is that?"
I see the ship moving through the asteroids. I want to yell. I want to bang through the cracked window. But I cannot. Instead I release the seatbelt with my right arm. My body quickly leans to the right, and moving my right leg to stand straight doesn't work. It doesn't work, because its not there. I look down through my blood stained visor and see that everything just below my knee is gone.
I remain shocked for a what it felt like an eternity. I try to drag myself to the left side of the seat, but I can't feel my left hand, either. Deep down, I already know why. I fight against the roaring pain and throw myself to the left so that I have enough space to push the button again. And again. And again.
I look through the window, trying to see past the light, but my eyes refuse to stay open. I become dizzy.
The ship approaches further still, stopping for only a brief moment to analyze the pod, cockpit to pod glass, an armored pilot without a recognizable face stared directly at him while he struggled, as if registering what they were looking at. Their arms pulled back slowly as the Falchion's nose turned upward, the light fading, a hatch opening up from the bottom of the ship as vibration now shook the pod, before stillness ensued.
What followed the panic for survival, and the dizziness from shock, and likely lack of blood. Was only complete darkness, followed by a thud, the pod hit something. Another thud, now hissing. A light came on above the pod, shining down to illuminate the cargo bay where his pod was now secured. A sudden jolt as the sound of an engines array charging sounded oh so distant despite how close it was in reality. The ship was moving, presumably back toward the warship it had come from. A distant voice. So hard to hear, the only thing of note was that it sounded familiar, the pieces were simply missing.
The thud wakes me up, but I'm not inside the pod anymore. I'm inside a bar - my home's bar. It must be it. I'm standing on a couch - table before my eyes. I see the stupid symbols I carved months ago when all of it took form. I see Tick on the other end of the table, but he's...frozen in time. I wave my hand in front of him, but he doesn't react.
I see myself again, sipping out of a glass of Whiskey, laid over the couch. I am looking at the walls, ceiling, window.
"Feeling better? Bollocks...of course I don't feel better! I just discovered I'm missing an arm and a leg! But there's hope...yep."
I bite my lip, leaving a low chuckle.
"There's hope, though. My pod's been taken to safety, right? Surely I could relax if not for the blood loss and a few other dozen problems a Wardog Mine would cause. O-Oh, sorry. I was thinking a way differentiate myself from myself."
I can't grasp the logic I'm taking. I look down and see a glass of Whiskey akin to the one I just took a sip out of at the other end of the table. I take one - again.
"So. For sanity's sake, let me clarify this. You could call it some sort of odd foreshadowing. I'm you from before you got offed by both The Order - no surprise there - and The Xenos. Big surprise there. I wouldn't have expected it, honestly. You, my friend. You're doomed. There's no easy way to put it. And now we've taken the first step.
I ask myself the question to the last part of what I- he, said. But there is no outright answer. I put the glass down, staring down those eyes - almost hollow as if staring through me, not at me.
"The first step to what?"
He puts the glass down, and blinks once as if confused by the question. He shrugs, then pulls out a pistol - my pistol. Just as he pulls the trigger an unknown force takes me away from the table and I wake up inside the pod again.
I see only darkness. I hear only a faint voice in the distance. I do not know who it is. What it is. I lean back on my seat, either waiting for the end or for the moment I am given the answer to who has taken my pod.
The engine falls to silence, metal scrapes of a touch down, massive doors closing tight. Sound returns, indicating a space in which it can travel. Quickly paced footsteps in the vicinity of his pod before the cargo bay opens up, grabbed by something from below indicated by two heavy clamps. Small ignitions are heard before the front of the pod begins to melt away in a door-like pattern. Whoever they were, they wasted no time retrieving their object of interest.
More footsteps, accompanied by metal whirs and other movements, the front of the pod fell free, revealing a hover-stretcher directly in front, as well as the odd interior of the Technocracy warship, the setting making it feel far more like an abduction than was likely appreciated. Though finally, a familiar face, perhaps not the one he wished to see. A gallic woman with sapphire eyes had moved over toward the pod, her typical cruel gaze baring down upon him, taking in the sight of how bad the man's condition was. The armor she wore indicated she had been the pilot within the Falchion. Her lips parted to speak in a commanding tone, though not to him, as her eyes still affixed directly upon the dying man's eyes.
